


Duet

by paperstorm



Series: IRL [2]
Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Established Relationship, It's like smut + feels, Kinda PWP, M/M, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-27
Updated: 2015-07-27
Packaged: 2018-04-11 10:56:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4432856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paperstorm/pseuds/paperstorm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Luke hangs back and lets Calum and Ashton bounce off toward the dressing room alone so he can pull Michael into a little storage closet. Michael was too good tonight. Too hot, too exciting to be around and listen to. The semi in Luke’s pants isn’t going away on its own and it’s Michael’s damn fault it’s there, so he should be involved in remedying the situation. Luke feels like it's only fair. </i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Duet

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thesoulsailor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesoulsailor/gifts).



When Michael suggested they add  _Wrapped Around Your Finger_  to the setlist, no one else was particularly jazzed about the idea. Luke loves that song because he wrote it with Michael, and because it means something to the two of them, but objectively as a song he’s always thought it was on the weaker end of their catalogue. There are a lot of other songs the fans would rather hear them play, anyway. People have been begging them to play  _If You Don’t Know_ since about a week after it was released. It seemed important to Michael, though, so when Calum and Ashton turned their noses up at the idea, Luke took Michael’s side. The others came around quickly enough, because, all things accounted for, Michael doesn’t ask for much.  
   
“It’ll be a break for me, then,” Calum decided. “I can hang with Ash in the back while you two Luke-and-Michael it up.”  
   
“You can sing in the chorus with us,” Luke had pointed out, but Calum shook his head.  
   
“Nah. You don’t need me. It’s your song, so go nuts.”  
   
In the end it was one of the better decisions they’ve ever made because – after a shaky start the first few times they performed it, inexperience combined with nerves – the song belongs to Michael. Luke gives it what he’s got, changes notes from time to time just to enjoy the screams, but it’s Michael’s song in every sense of the word. Michael shines all over every show they play but that song is his time to show the world what he can do.  
   
It’s so good in Las Vegas that it leaves Luke not quite soft in his skinny jeans and distracted for the rest of the show. The rasp in Michael’s voice, how strong it’s become on this tour, not a trace of nerves, the emotion as he sings, the way you can tell even without knowing that this song means so much more to him than words and melodies and tonal sequence. He can’t believe how good Michael was. He really can’t. Luke remembers when they first started, and Michael never wanted to have solos on tracks because he didn’t think he was as good as Luke and Calum – and then when they persuaded him to sing on his own, he never wanted to play those songs live. He was embarrassed, he thought he didn’t stack up to the rest of the band. And now he’s so, so good. Loud and confident, owning the stage, and Luke is so proud of him. He’s proud of all of them, of how far they’ve come.  
   
After the encore and the final bow, the thunder of cheers still ringing in his ears, Luke hangs back and lets Calum and Ashton bounce off toward the dressing room alone so he can pull Michael into a little storage closet. He knows their friends are going to realize what’s going on the second they notice they’ve become two instead of four, but Luke doesn’t care. Michael was too good tonight. Too hot, too exciting to be around and listen to. The semi in Luke’s pants isn’t going away on its own and it’s Michael’s damn fault it’s there, so he should be involved in remedying the situation. Luke feels like it’s only fair, and he feels like if he played them a tape of Michael rasping  _“I’m wrapped around your fucking finger”_ , a jury would be unanimously on Luke’s side.  
   
“What are we doing?” Michael giggles, as if he doesn’t know. He’s such a mess right now, sweatier than if he’d run a marathon – not that he ever would – and Luke wants to lick it all off him. Michael makes Luke want a lot of things, most of them things he would never have expected at fifteen when the tall boy with the emo fringe decided after a year of animosity that Luke was suddenly worthy of his time. Luke’s been whipped ever since.  
   
Luke doesn’t answer. Instead, he pushes Michael up against the door and kisses him hard. He tastes like salt and danger, and stubble scratches Luke’s face. Michael kisses back straight away, instantly as eager for it as Luke’s been all night. He’s a little whipped too, and Luke likes the idea. Hands crawl under Luke’s t-shirt and pet along his skin, hot and damp as well from sweat.  
   
“What’s, uh.” Michael laughs, but it’s mirthless. Nothing is funny. It’s husky and rough, crunchy like gravel and smooth like honey at the same time, and it sends a shiver down Luke’s spine. Michael will never be able to comprehend how sexy he is when he isn’t even trying. “What’s gotten into you?”  
   
Luke just says, “You.”  
   
He’s so dizzy already with how much he wants Michael and they don’t have much time before the other two decide they need the whole band to celebrate properly and come knocking – Cal in particular has been half a nudist since Luke met him and never cares to make sure there aren’t dicks out before he bursts through a closed door. More than his share of the time, it’s his dick that’s out anyway. Luke abandons preamble entirely, shoves his hand into Michael’s jeans and starts rubbing. Michael whines into Luke’s mouth and his hips tilt forward into Luke’s hand, begging for more without saying the words because his tongue is preoccupied in Luke’s mouth.  
   
He’s fully hard by the time Luke’s fingers remember how to undo a button and zipper, fumbling it because his hands are shaking. He curls his fist around Michael’s cock, hot and swollen against his palm, and strokes it quickly.  
   
“Are we –  _fuck_  – seriously resorting to handjobs in a dirty closet? There are beds back at the hotel, we don’t have to …” Michael loses his train of thought as Luke rubs his thumb over the leaking slit, swiping it through slippery precome and bringing it to Michael’s lips, letting him taste. Michael sucks Luke’s finger into his mouth and moans around it.  
   
Luke spits into his palm and starts touching Michael’s dick again, twisting his wrist and squeezing around the head. “You were saying?”  
   
“Shut up, Hemmings,” Michael mutters, groaning and finding Luke’s lips again.  
   
“We can fuck when we get back to the hotel anyway,” Luke tells him, the words coming out breathless even though Michael’s the one getting some friction where he needs it and Luke’s own cock is still trapped painfully behind his zipper. He’s been hard for way longer, too, and that hardly seems fair. The thought of Michael fucking him later has Luke’s head spinning. It isn’t something he’d use for conversation at a party or anything, but Luke isn’t ashamed of the fact that he really, really likes it when Michael fucks him.  
   
“So this is what, an appetizer?”  
   
“I don’t know, is it appetizing?”  
   
Michael rolls his eyes. “Why the fuck do I love you.”  
   
Luke smiles and ducks down to attach his lips to Michael’s neck, sucking a bruise into his pale skin that he won’t be able to cover.  
   
“Shit, Luke,” Michael laughs again, shaky this time. His hips move, rocking in tiny circles, fucking himself into Luke’s fist while Luke licks along his throat. His fingers squeeze handfuls of Luke’s shirt, and then find Luke’s cheeks to force his head back up, their mouths crashing back together in a kiss that hurts a little but Luke doesn’t stop.  
   
“You’re so fuckin’ good out there,” he growls. He finds his own crotch with his free hand and adjusts himself, hissing at the pressure even though it’s barely anything. He’s going to last about eight seconds by the time his turn comes.  
   
“Out where?” Michael moans. “Fuck, yeah. Just like that.”  
   
“On stage.” Luke gets in closer, licking along the shell of Michael’s ear while he whispers to him, his hand still working Michael’s cock. Michael’s close, Luke can feel it. They’ve been doing this long enough. Luke knows the pattern. “You used to get so nervous. Now you make a show your bitch.”  
   
“I still get nervous.”  
   
“It doesn’t show. You’re amazing. Such a rock-star.”  
   
“Such wow,” Michael jokes, and then it falls away into a whimper and his head tips backwards, thumping against the door.  
   
Luke nuzzles his nose under Michael’s jaw and strokes him faster. “You wanna come?”  
   
“Yes, fuck. Please.”  
   
Luke kisses him again as he ups the stakes just one last time, twisting how he knows Michael likes. His cock twitches in his jeans as Michael grunts into Luke’s mouth and comes into his hand, making a mess on Luke’s jeans that he definitely isn’t going to be able to hide from Ashton’s eagle-eyes, so they’re busted either way. Later, at the hotel, Luke will go slower. He’ll have time to draw it out, to coax Michael right to the edge of oblivion and then back off and do it all over again. Michael is beautiful at the worst of times, but he’s breathtaking when he’s fucked-out and bleary-eyed and begging Luke to stop teasing. It’s Luke’s favorite extra-curricular activity.  
   
Michael catches his breath for a minute, and then he flips them around so Luke’s back is against the door. He sinks fluidly to his knees, tugging Luke’s tight jeans down with him. Luke’s cock springs free and slaps against his stomach. He’s so hard already, and been that way for what feels like hours, so Michael doesn’t waste time, he just parts his slips and slides his mouth over it, winking up at Luke as he does just to drive him crazy. Luke could burst into tears, the relief intense and overwhelming. Michael’s mouth is warm and wet, and his pink lips are so pretty wrapped around Luke. He has a mouth that was made for sucking dicks, but Luke never says that out loud because it reminds him his isn’t the only dick Michael’s ever sucked, and Luke doesn’t like thinking about that. Michael is all his now, that’s the important part.  
   
“Feels so good, baby,” he murmurs, encouraging, combing his fingers through Michael’s sweaty, messy hair. Michael hums in response, and the vibrations explode through Luke, make his veins feel like they’re on fire.  
   
Michael’s eyes flutter closed, long lashes resting against high cheekbones, and slips down further on Luke’s cock, the tip of it hitting the back of his throat. Luke groans and clenches his jaw to keep from fucking into Michael’s mouth and choking him. Michael asks for it wordlessly, though, his jaw going slack and his hand going around to Luke’s ass, pushing his hips forward. Luke holds Michael’s hair and thrusts in small and shallow movements, and his cheeks flush as he watches his cock slide in and out, Michael’s dark lips stretched wide around it. Michael’s good at this, knows just the spots to rub his tongue, just how to swallow around his mouthful, just how hard to suck, when to slow down and when to speed up, and it all has Luke jelly-limbed and forgetful of words that aren’t Michael’s name or indulgent moans. He pats Michael’s cheek to warn him when the clenching begins in his gut, but Michael doesn’t move away. He never does. Luke’s cock twitches and he loses it; Michael’s throat works to swallow, still sucking Luke through the tremors.  
   
“Michael,” Luke breathes, for maybe the tenth time, his head resting against the door behind him and his breath harsh and shallow as his heart beats too fast and his tired body aches to slip down to the floor. Michael stands, pulling Luke’s boneless form into a kiss, and there’s come in his mouth, unswallowed on purpose so Luke can share it. It’s filthy and it makes Luke shudder, but he wraps his arms around Michael’s waist anyway and enjoys the dirty thrill, the bitter flavor of himself on Michael’s tongue.  
   
“Love the way you taste,” Michael says, weak and rough-sounding, and Luke hopes he hasn’t ruined Michael’s voice for tomorrow. Half-hopes, anyway. The other half of him hopes Michael’s even raspier than normal the next night during their song, so Luke can remember this moment while they harmonize about making plans in the Santa Cruz sand.  
   
Michael stops kissing him suddenly, and laughs again.  
   
“What?” Luke asks, laughing too.  
   
“Nothing.” Michael grins, shit-eating and self-satisfied and Luke wants to kiss him again and then maybe punch him in the nose. “That was fun. We should get you riled up on stage more often.”  
   
Luke blushes.  
   
Michael nudges Luke’s nose with his own. “C’mon. Don’t go all bashful on me now. Your dick was just down my throat. We’re way past polite.”  
   
“You’re a dick,” Luke tells him, but hugs tighter around Michael’s waist anyway, and buries his face into Michael’s shoulder.  
   
Michael chuckles softly. He tucks himself back into his pants and does them up, and then reaches between them and does the same for Luke. His fingers are warm on Luke’s softening cock, and he twitches a little at the touch on his sensitive flesh.  
   
“Anything in particular I did tonight to get you all hot and bothered?” Michael asks. He holds Luke against his chest, even though Luke is bigger.  
   
“Everything,” Luke says honestly. He kisses the skin under his lips, right next to the mark he left on Michael’s neck earlier. Then he lifts his head up so he can see Michael’s eyes, make sure Michael knows he’s being serious.  
   
“Okay,” Michael replies with a hum. “I’ll just keep doing everything, then.”  
   
“You were so amazing out there, Mikey,” Luke whispers, repeating himself so Michael knows he means it, knows it wasn’t just frivolity spoken in the midst of sex. He brushes his fingers lovingly through Michael’s hair. “You always are.”  
   
“So are you,” Michael tells him, but the way he looks at Luke, starry-eyed, betrays how much the compliment means to him. Luke’s opinion has always mattered exponentially more to Michael than anyone else’s.  
   
“Remember making videos?” Luke asks. He drops his head back down, forehead resting against Michael’s. His lips brush Michael’s as he talks, dry skin catching and sticking. “Our terrible covers and our stupid jokes about how cool it would be if we were in a real band one day. I never thought it would actually happen. And now we’re here. We did it. You and me. Just like we always wanted.”  
   
“I loved you so much back then.” Emotion constricts Michael’s voice, nostalgia probably gripping inside his chest the way it’s doing in Luke’s. He kisses Luke’s cheek, and then leaves his mouth resting there.  
   
“It took you so long to tell me.” Luke remembers the night Michael did, scared and drunk and teary because Luke had kissed someone else.  
   
“Didn’t think you’d love me back.”  
   
“I did. I do,” Luke promises. “Whatever else happens, it’s you and me, okay? Just like back then.”  
   
“Love you,” Michael repeats, maybe just because he can. Michael likes to say it. He told Luke once he likes the way the words taste in his mouth.  
   
“So much,” Luke murmurs.  
   
“We should get back. Celebrate with the boys. That show was insane.”  
   
“You’re staying with me tonight, right?” Luke asks, dragging his lip ring into his mouth and worrying at it between his teeth. “We can finish this later?”  
   
“Of course.” Michael opens the door, winks again, says, “wanna see if you can come on just my tongue up your ass,” and then he’s gone, and Luke moans and stumbles a little as his knees threaten to give out underneath him for just a second.  _Later_  can’t come soon enough.

**Author's Note:**

> [follow me on tumblr if you want!](http://paper-storm.tumblr.com/)


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